Everyone's a little bit crazy
by Freckle359
Summary: A collection of short stories. House, Wilson, Lucas, Foremen and Chase all suffer a metal break down. Each one having one thing in common, they see another person beside them, telling them what to do. Stories based of episodes or made up, Slash, Death
1. Killing Him Slowly pt 1

**This is just one of the many series of Greg going crazy. Remember, each story will either be based off an esp. of House M.D. or made up all together.  
**

**As a side note... Forgive my many MANY typo errors, it is shocking but my first language IS English, I just have very bad grammer. So I'm in a need of a beta reader. Send me a note if you would like to help.  
**

**Read and Review is always welcomed.**

***********************

He did it again.....

House squeezed his fingers tightly around his cane, his brain for the first time. Was empty. He couldn't think, he couldn't try to understand. The only thing he could, was feel.

Pain.

His heart, it twisted and tore like someone was ripping it from his rib cage, was tearing it apart in front of his eyes. He really tried... this time he did. The shadows were his only company in his office, his back to his glass door. What was he going to do? What COULD he do? He knew this was going to happen but like an idiot he ignored it... and he hoped against it... and still it turned around and got him.

What was he going to do?

'_Greg._'

Looking up, House's pain covered eyes met hers. In the break of his panic, after finding what he did that morning two days ago. His mental state had snapped. Like a dream, he began to see things and one thing he saw was another being. Another person, a women. She dressed like him, she held the same cold blue eyes like him. Her face was covered by her short choppy hair but he could still see her anger covered face.

'_It will happen again._'

It was two days ago. He wished it wasn't true, he willed it to be wrong. But life had to out for him. Wilson and he were happy together. For three years they lived together, slept together, they basically had the best love life House could picture. He smiled more and was rude less and Wilson was always there. Sure they had their little fights and tiffs but they always made up.

That's why, when House found out what he did two days ago, it hurt him so bad, he started to lose his mind.

Wilson had left early for work, like he did every other day. Kissing House while he slept. But for some reason, House could not sleep. His leg had been acting up and laying in bed wasn't helping. A few pills taken, and still no dent was made. Taking his cane, House began to walk around their apartment, trying to relax the muscle out but to no relief. So in a crazy chance, he left the apartment to walk outside. It was a warm summer day, so he saw no harm in it.

Putting on a loose rock t-shirt and jeans with running shoes, he limped his way outside and began to walk, enjoying the silence of the early morning. His quick five minute walked turned into a twenty and he found himself sitting silently at a park, his back resting upon an empty bench. He watched joggers pass, judging them as they ran. It's what he does. All the while, he smiled to himself. He was finally happy. He was finally at peace with himself.

Then he saw them.

At first, House didn't notice. It was just a couple, a man and women holding hand like other couples do. But as they got closer, House heart stopped.

It was Wilson.

Wilson was holding a womens hand.

House was rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with shock. No... there had to be a reason. Maybe she was a cancer victim of his. Maybe she fell and he was helping her. But no... Wilson was holding her hand lightly, their fingers lace like lovers. She was pretty, blond and young, her free arm hugging his close, her rose covered cheek resting gently upon his shoulder. They walked along the side walk next to the pond that glanced at. Like there was nothing in the world that mattered.

House heard the crack in his heart when the women lifted her head, her pink lips a smile as she spoke, causing Wilson in a laugh and with pain covered eyes, House watched as his lover, his best friend, lowered his head and stole a kiss.

He sat a broken man, watching the one person he trusted, the one person he loved, the one person... who swore to never hurt him... finally stick a knife into his back and twist with every lingering second he staied in that kiss. They walked away after that, hand in hand, like nothing was amiss. Like normal...everyday...lovers. House couldn't breath, the pain all but forgotten, slowly being replaced by the numbness that spreaded. He was a fool... a damn fool.

'_Kill him_.'

He turned his head slowly and there, right next to him, he saw the women first. She wore the same baggy t-shirt. Same jeans and shoes. Her face was covered in rage, her eyes burned with hate. She looked to him, watching his expressionless face. '_Kill him_.' She repeated and with a blink of an eye, she was gone. Leaving him once again... alone..

For two days, House tried to forget. Trying to remove that image from his head. But he couldn't. Everyday, Wilson got up early and told him about a department meeting, gave him a kiss on the cheek and left... and every night, Wilson would return and cook a meal, would sit and chatter with House and fall asleep next to him, holding his hand tightly again his face. Like he couldn't rest without House laying besides him.

He was a damn fool.

Cause only after seeing that day, House could tell. He saw every shed of proof that Wilson was cheating of him that he ignored before. Every time when House greeted him at work, Wilson looked flushed and worn out and House blamed it on the early morning meeting... Now he knew better. Now when Wilson walked by him, House could smell the scent of a female, the perfume that coated her skin when she pressed closed. He saw it all.

What was he going to do?

Wilson had left for home already... He stopped by House office and offered a ride but House only dismissed him, claiming he had some unfinished business to attended too. Wilson had accepted it, gave a wave and went on his way. Leaving House to sit, lost.

'_Do it_.'

He looked at her helplessly, his lips a frowned. "How?" He was hurt, he was in so much pain. He didn't know what to do! He hated what he had become! He hated that he thought Wilson would change for him, that he would stay faithful! House was pissed that he even PUT effort into their love only to have it back handed. "What do I do?"

She sat on his glass desk top, her arms crossed. She stared at him, quietly, angrily. Making him want to shout at her. She tilted her head slowly before looking to the picture frame that laid beside her. A picture of him and Wilson, taken on their first day of living together. He watched her close her eyes, her head slowly rolling to her right side before bowing forward, her hair slipping past her shoulders. She spoke, making Houses body jerk and stand.

"_Destroy him._"

*************************************

Wilson was cooking in the kitchen when House entered their apartment. The scent of meat, Wilson was going all out. He limped slowly to the door way, his eyes watching Wilson humming to himself at the stove, moving the chopped beef around in the pan. Tacos.... Looking away, He saw her sitting at the table. The table had plates and glasses out, a salad bowl settled neatly in the middle. He watch her reach out and touch the bowl, moving it to the edge of the table. His breath stilled when her eyes locked onto his own and with a dark smile on her lips, she shoved, sending the bowl off the table top and shattering on the floor.

Wilson jumped and spun around, his eyes wide. House was shocked, finding himself sitting at the table where she had been earlier, his arm stretched out. _HE_ pushed the bowl off... How did she do that? "House?" Wilson asked shocked. Turning the shove off, he frowned and began to complain, waving his hand to the mess on the floor. But House couldn't hear the words. No, he just watched Wilson with his hands on his hips, his face flushed with outrage. Then he saw her again, she stepped out from behind Wilson, her eyes narrowed and glaring at him. Reaching up, House watched her fingers as she touched his shirt collar and pulled, letting Houses eyes see.. a patch of dark red skin... very small... but very noticeable to him.

His arm shot out again, this time wiping the plates and glasses to the floor, shattering against the marble. James jumped back and started at his lover in shock. "House! What is wrong with you?!"

"Get out..."

Wilson frowned, his face covered in confusion.

'_Thats right. Play dumb_.' House heard her whisper, watching her circle Wilson like a tiger to its pray. '_Act like we dont know._'

"What?" Wilson muttered, his hands rubbing the back of his neck. "Get.....Out." House repeated harder, growling through his clenched teeth. She stepped away from Wilson when he stepped forward, his eyes wide in questions... but he saw it. There was fear in those brown eyes.

'_He knows_.' She whispered to House, her body slowly sliding up behind him, her fingers gripping his shoulder, squeezing. Her breath hot and demanded when she hissed into his ear. '_Now...Kill him_.'

"GET OUT!"

Wilson jumped back when House surged to his feet. With rage, House grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it, causing he glass that was already on the floor to spread out, knocking Wilson back into the counter. Wilson tried to talk, tried to reach out but House didn't have it. Moving forward, he grabbed Wilson outstreched arm and shoved, pushing him out from the kitchen into the living room.

She was sitting on the couch watching, glaring, '_Tell him House_.' She called out

"You selfish, two timing bastard!" House cried, pushing Wilson into the couch, almost knocking him over. He watched his best friend regain his footing, watching his face drop and his body began to shake. "H-House its not what it looks like!"

"_Call him on it!_" Her voice rang out making him throw his cane aside, listening to the sickening crack it made again the wall and the sudden bliss when Wilson's face flinched.

"I saw it with my own two eyes. What? Were you getting bored? Was dating a cripple that bad? Was I not needy enough for you? Didn't take you very long to go back to your old ways and damn, I shouldn't even be surprised!"

Wilsons eyes teared up, his fingers curling into the couch. "I wanted to tell you!" He pleaded, his face begging for understanding. "It doesn't mean anything! She doesn't mean anything! It was a mistake and I'm sorry!"

'_Lies_' she whispered to his ear making his rage boil. '_If it meant nothing, then he would have stopped two days ago._'

"Well. Unlike your other wives Jimmy boy. I'm not giving you a second chance. You made your bed, now I'm going to make you fucking sleep in it, now Get out!"

Wilson tried to reason, tried to beg but House was not having it. With as much strength as he could have, with all the rage, the hurt, the pain he suffered, he shoved Wilson out the front door "House please!" Wilson cried, stumbling back up the two steps to the door. "Let me explain, please dont do this! I love you!"

'_Lies...._' She whispered again to him. '_Kill him House._' She touched his arm that held the door frame. He stood there, trembling, unshed tears in his own eyes. Wilson looked so pitiful. Standing outside his door, his face covered in tears and his body trembling with broken sobs and fear. Guilt. '_Kill him_.' She muttered into his shoulder and together, they took a step back, letting Wilsons eyes brighten in hope that he would be let back.

"Everybody lies Wilson. Even you."

And together, they slammed the door, locking him out, listening with the sick satisfaction as Wilson sobbed and pounded at the door, his voice pleaing.

One step, then another. House moved away from the pounding of his door, his body trembling, his legs buckling under him letting him fall. Without his cane for support, he landed flat on his back, his body jerking in the laughter that left his throat. Threw his tears he laughed, threw the pain, he laughed. Hugging his stomach, he turned to his side and hugged himself, his muffled chuckled turning into quiet sobs. What will he do now?

Looking up, he found her, laying down next to him, her faced masked in the blank expression. Showing nothing... Slowly she gave a smile, reaching out, touching his stuble cheek, but he could not feel it. He was to numb to feel anything.

"What do I do?" He asked her.

'_Tomorrow_.' She began, a smile touching her face. '_Make him regret...everything_.'


	2. Killing Him Slowly pt 2

Its been three weeks since that night. The first week, House requested to use his vacation time and spent it at home. Every morning he watched with a sicking heart and blurry eyes as that women ripped every one of Wilsons shirts. With every sound of shredded fabric, he felt his blood grow cold. He sat in the corner of his bedroom, his arms hugging his knees tightly to his chest. He watched her, like a frighten child as she sat on his bed. She wore his night wear, baggy flannel bottoms with a white t-shirt.

Littered around her were every one of Wilsons shirt. On the floor laid his old lovers ties, each one cut and blood stained. House couldn't even whimper or ask her to stop, he was to numb. She was _twisted_ and had a sick _need_ that he could not understand. In her hands, her blood covered hands, was a sharp piece of glass that she had picked up from the kitchen floor. From the broken salad bowl he had shattered the night before. With every nick to her fingers, she did not flinch but he did. Lifting his hands, he watched with trembling arms as little cuts began to appear on his finger tips. Everything _she_ did, happened to _him_... How scary it was.

What was even scarier was the fact, whenever he looked at the vanity mirror that was behind the bed, he could see _him_self on the bed instead of_ her_. He saw himself sitting with a dark grin and bloody hands, tearing away at each shirt he grabbed. This women was him and he hated what he was becoming...

But he did not have the will to stop it.

************************  
**  
For the first week, Wilson left him alone. No calls, no surprise visits. Not even a shout of his name when House dropped off a box of Wilsons blood stained shirts at his office door.

The Second week Wilson tried. Each day House's cell would go off and each time he saw Wilsons name, _she_ was there to snap the phone from his band-aid covered fingers and press ignore. He would plea at her with his eyes but she only shock her head, placing the phone back down.

"_Not this time._" She whispered to him. Cupping his face, she pressed her forehead into his own, bringing him closer to the empty void she created. "_Make him regret it all... For every night he touched her."_

"_I will bleed him dry._"

The third week everything seem to go back to normal. House still suffered, but on the inside. He had stopped seeing her whenever he looked around, his work load was the same. He thought he was finally getting better. Wilson had given up by that week. Even went the long mile to keep his distance. When ever they came into contact, they would simply look upon one another. House would glare and Wilson would look away and continue on. It was like they were strangers. Rumors began to fly but he didn't care.

He was getting better... he **had** to be.

* * *

"House... We need to talk."

House turned to see Wilson standing across from him on their shared balcony. Wilson looked defeated, hurt. His hair was no longer brushed and styled but messy. His clothing was wrinkled and his tie was gone. Bags laid under his eyes from where it seems he lacked sleep. He had the sudden urge to pull the man close and hold him. To stroke those wrinkles and stress away. But the second that thought crossed his mind, **she** appeared beside him.

He stayed still, scared of what she might do. "Go away." He muttered. He hoped Wilson would. He was pissed yes, he was out of his mind crazy. Something was wrong with him, he had snapped and now whatever she did... he did.. He wanted Wilson to suffer for the betrayal. But she might...

"No House please." Wilson moved closer to the divider, his brown eyes pleading. "Just listen to me, I-I know I messed up real bad but I've fixed it!"

'_Liar_.' She growled, the venom dripping from her words made Houses stomach drop. "Don't say anything." House choked out, his body taking a step back, trying to get back to his office. "Just go away."

"House no!" Wilson grabbed his arms and staled him, tugging him closer. "I left her! I've taken consulting, I'm seeing someone about this. I wasn't unhappy with you, I really did love you. Shit House I still do!"

_'Let go._' She hissed. House couldn't stop the racing of his heart as he watched her move. She stood behind him, her body positioned like his own, her arm up as thou Wilson was truly holding onto her as well. Wilson tugged again and that's when she struck.

Lifting up her cane, she swung and cracked Wilson across the face, sending his friend stumbling backwards and slumping to the ground. Wilson grabbed his face trembling, blood smearing down his jaw. He looked up from the floor, his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. The same look House was giving himself.

House was shaking. **_SHE_** had hit him but _**HE**_ was standing there with his cane stretched out. Lower his trembling arm, he looked back down to Wilson who was holding his bruising jaw tightly. House felt a cold hand touch his own, he jerked but she held tight. With such grace, she turned him away from the sight and pushed him to walk.

"_Drop dead Wilson_." She spoke, her hands squeezing Houses forearms.

"I don't love you anymore." She had said it, but it was his voice that Wilson heard. Without even a backwards glance, she pushed House inside.

**********************

It was three days later when the hospital began to talk. House had walked in to find Cuddy pacing, her hands wringing themselves raw. "House!" She shouted at his appearance. She rushed to him as he tried to get away. "Have you heard from Wilson?"

"No. Gotta work." He answered but she snatched his arm. "House! He's been gone for two days, we can't get a hold of him."

"Not my problem anymore." He hissed, pulling away but Cuddy held on tighter, her nails sinking. "House... I have a bad feeling about this.." He looked to the ground, his fingers curling. Maybe he could call Wilson, just to make sure. The elevators dinged and his eyes looked up to met another pair of blue orbs. He stiffened when _she_ appeared, her body leaning heavily upon the metal railing inside the elevator. She tilted her head to him, watching him, judging him and he panicked. Pulling free, he quickly joined her, his voice calling out.

"Don't care bye now."

* * *

Be damned his heart but he could not ignore it.

Squeezing his fingers into his palm, he stood outside of Wilsons hotel room. It took a while to track down the location but nothing a few hacking codes couldn't uncover. This was stupid and a waste of time. He was sure Wilson was inside drunk out of his mind or perhaps he wasn't even there. Maybe he was waist deep in a new girl that would melt his pain away.

He pressed his lips at the thought. It had been three days and no one heard from Wilson or even seen him. It took a few sweet words but House got Wilsons key copied from the front desk.

He was only here to make sure he was alright and nothing more. If he was drunk, then he would leave him to drown in his own sorrow. He wouldn't help him up and get him into bed, he wouldn't stroke his hair and hold him close, bury his face into his throat and breath in his scent.

No, none of that.

Pushing the unlocked door open, he peered around and stepped in. Everything seemed normal, aside from the empty beer bottles that seemed to be littering the floor. He stepped threw them, trying to find the sole person he had set out to find.

Where the hell was Wilson?

'_Oh my baby Jimmy... Close your little brown eyes._'

House turned a little at the song like voice that echoed out in the empty room. Someone was here. Following the light tune, he found the bathroom door ajar, the light seeping out threw the cracks.

'_And I will find you... A Lover little lullaby_.'

Touching the door, House pushed it open, his eyes adjusting to the light. He could hear water, was he taking a bath? With a shake of his head, he looked to the bathtub, seeing the curtains drawn, hiding Wilson behind it. The closer he got, the louder the voice sang.

'_All the pretty little flowers, grown each by hand....sway and dance all around you, singing it's time to go to bed..._'

Touching the curtain, a sudden fear shot down his spine. He was here to make sure Wilson was alright. Wilson was alright... Wilson was alright. Pulling the curtains back, he looked in and the sight made his cane drop. With a gasp, he fell to his rump on the floor, his knees bent up. House looked with wide scared eyes, his head shaking, his body trembling. "N-No."

Wilson laid in the bathtub, clothes in all, soaked and stained. The water was not clear but red, rippling around his still body. His tan skin now a ashy gray. Wilson was dead and by the look of it... he had been dead for a few hours.

Above Wilson's still body, she lingered. She was looked at him, her cold blue eyes shining, her lips a smile. She sat in the red water, her stained hands rolling along the marble tubs side before dipping in and touched Wilsons arms, pulling him away from the tub edge, her voice whispering, singing out.

'_So my baby Jimmy... Close your little brown eyes._' Pulling him closer, she held him, hugging him tightly to her chest. She closed her eyes and smiled an open smile, as thou Wilson's death was the very gift she wanted in life. Tears filled Houses eyes that he had to shut them tightly. He couldn't watch. He did this, Wilson did this. They were both to blame and damn it, he hated it!

"And I will find you... A lover little lullaby_..._"

When he opened his eyes again, his lips were parted, his voice whispering back the song he had just sang out. Looking down, his tears fell when he found himself in the bathtub where she once was. His arms wrapped around Wilsons still body like she was before. With a cracked sob, he buried his face into Wilsons neck and held him tightly.

"Why?" He asked his friend. He wanted to know why, he knew the answer but he wanted to hear his voice again. Sound of moving feet made him look over his friends shoulder to see her sitting on the floor, in the same position he was earlier. She watched him, her face showing nothing, no joy, no sorrow. Nothing.

"Why?" He asked her, his fingers gripping Wilsons wet hair, burying his friends face into his own throat.

She gave a helpless shrug before smiling, "_Like you wanted... For everyday he touched her, I will bleed..him...dry._"

"I didn't want this." He whispered, his voice cracking. " I didn't WANT THIS!" He watched her sit there as long as he could before his tears made him blink. When he looked again, she was gone, perhaps for good, he didn't know. What he did know was he was truly and utterly alone.

With clench teeth, he bowed his head and screamed into Wilsons shoulder, holding him close, sobbing into his blood soaked shirt.

That's how he was found the next day, holding onto Wilson's lifeless body.  
**  
************************


	3. Hurt Him Slowly

_**This is just a story based off a tv show aired on Fox. In no way do I applaud the abuse of handicap personal. I admire the story in the latest esp for the tracts used.**_

Over all, in the show House does not WANT to be seen as a handicap or a cripple so to pull this tricks on him make him feel a bit better. Yes they were harsh but over all, House smiled at them and Lucas stood his ground.

Its just a story, if it offends you, sorry but hey, You can't make everyone happy nor am I trying.

* * *

'_I think you two would make.. a great couple.'  
_  
'_I highly doubt that Wilson_.'

Lights flickered off the four televisions screens that laid before him. Each screen playing a tape, each screen showing different days, different topics, but they were always the same in the goal.

Lucas curled his fingers slowly into his clicker, his free hand gripping his shin tightly. He sat on the cold metal ground of his ice cream truck, his knees drawn up to his chin. For hours he sat in that spot, watching each clip, watching each encounter, he watched every tear that left Cuddy's eyes.

'_You should date him Cuddy._'

'_Wilson for the last time, no._'

Lucas hit the tab on his clicker, his lips pressed, counting. Time and time again, he watched as Wilson talk to Cuddy, trying to talk her into dating his best friend, swearing it would make them both better. Week after week, Wilson tried to be the good guy to his best friend and match them but Cuddy refused to fall for it. She had before, right after she found her new desk table, believing House was the one whom ordered it for her. She rushed to his office to thank him and to even ask him for a drink, giving herself that small hope of a future with him when she came to a stop, spotting House with another women. A hooker Lucas found out.

Lucas wasn't dating her at the time, but he really liked her... So liked he did to any girl he liked, he watched her, very closely. Just to see if he had any chance. What he found made a little bubble inside of his chest grow, threatening to burst.

He watched Cuddy cry quietly in her office, calling herself foolish in thinking House liked her. He watched the guilt washing over Cuddys face every time Wilson told her she didn't know a good relationship even if one bit her in the ass.

Every tear, ever hurt he saw on Cuddys face. He clicked.

His eyes moved to the next t.v and there, his blood boiled. There Houses faces flashed, time and time again. Endless bickering, poking, dissing.

'_You suck as a mom!_'

'_She'll take it right back, no one would give a child to an over worked women like you._'

'_I SLEPT WITH LISA CUDDY!_!'

House voice echoed and his smirk burned itself into Lucas brain. Each comment tore at Cuddy shield in til she was left with nothing left but to sit and cry. To cover her mouth with her hand behind her desk and sob. Humiliated, her dream being crushed by one of her own friends words.

Those two men, best friends. As long as they had each other, nothing could touch them. Nothing could faze them. What about Cuddy? Who did she have when her world came apart?

Right there, Lucas stepped up and swore he would be Cuddy's support. He would be the one she could cry too so she would never be alone.

Another click and Lucas felt the rage over flow. The third screen let him watch the thanksgiving weekend. House swore to break them up, pulling every trick in the book, Cuddy felt guilty and almost even broke up with Lucas. But Lucas told her to hang on, to give it time. House would get bored, everything would blow over. What did he get?

'_Why didn't you tell me you were dating Lucas?_' Thats a click.

'_I wouldn't have tried to push you with House is why!_' Another click.

'_House is my best friend, he has a right to know if you weren't single. Do you know how hard he tried to impress you?!_'

Wilson pointed fingers and placed the blame on her. To see House finally open up, finally take a step and prove to Cuddy that he was the kind of man she would need. It was to late cause Lucas stepped up first and proved he was perfect for her to lean on. But because she did not pick House, Wilson grew furious and blamed her for the betrayal Wilson swore he felt and the hurt House now suffered. It was like Wilson didn't even care about all the other times Cuddy tried to get with House, how she hinted and flirted. The day she finally refused House, Wilson saw her as the enemy.

What Wilson and House did next caused something inside of him to snap.

The fourth screen... The fourth screen showed him the result.

House and Wilson sitting happily on their orange couch, sitting in the loft Cuddy wanted.

Looking down at the clicker, he snarled and threw it, letting it smash against the tv set, cuffing the glass.

'_They took her dream._'

Lucas covered his face at the sound of _her_ voice. He didn't know why she was there, perhaps he had gone crazy with rage. He didn't know. But the second he felt something snap inside of him, with a blink of an eye, _she_ appeared.

A women sat next to him, sitting in the same position, wearing the same clothes. Her eyes were of the same shade as they looked upon the screens, her hair was short and chopped, slicked back from her face. It was like she was his twin.

She looked to him, her pink lips a frown. '_Look at them._' She whispered, making Lucas cringe. '_They're so happy._'

She scooted closer, her fingers reaching out, touching the marked screen, tracing over the surface slowly. '_Do you remember the look on her face? When she found out?_' He looked away then, not wanting to remember.

He had came home from his job. He greeted Rachel in her play pen, tickling her into a coo before he went out to search for Cuddy. He knew she had been trying to figure out why her offer on the loft wasn't being taken. When she first found the loft, she rushed to him, her face a glow, her smile never straying. She waved her hands and explained every detail making him laugh, explained what every room would be used for. She had picked up Rachel and swung her around happily, swearing she was going to get the best home money could buy, that she would grow up lacking nothing. Lucas was finally happy that a dream was coming true for Cuddy.

He found her in her room, holding onto her cell phone. Her back was to him so he tipped toed behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. With a peck on the shoulder, he asked how she was. When he got no respond, he worried. Turning her around, he found her face in disbelief and pain. He asked what happened and she looked up to him then. As if she finally realized he was there. She held up the cell phone, her lips giving a weak smile. It was Bonnie, Wilsons ex wife. Lucas remembered Cuddy talking about her, that was the lady she was trying to buy the loft threw. He asked what had happened and Cuddy let it drop.

Bonnie had told her Wilson out bided Cuddys offer.... She lost her loft. Lucas couldn't believe it. That couldn't have happened. He watched her set her phone down and take a breath. '... Are you okay?' He had asked and Cuddy, with her last piece of her shield, smiled up at him and whispered.

'Its just a loft... I'll find another.'

But he could see it, the tears in her eyes that refuse to fall. The need to scream and throw things shaking her body as she struggled not to let it over come her. With nothing else, Lucas wrapped his arms around her and brought her close, pressed her face into his chest. He waited and he felted it, her muffled sobs, her tightening fingers as they gripped his shirt. He was there to catch her when she fell, he was there to let her lean when her pride was struck.

He was there while House laughed in his new home.

Lucas needed to get back at them. They gotten away with to much shit, they needed to be taught a lesson.

'_Lets get them._' He looked over to the women who spoke, her eyes glowing with delight.

"..How?"

The women tilted her head slowly to the side, rolling it to let her eyes glance back to the screen. Her lip turned ugly, her eyes narrowed. Reaching, she touched her fingers back to the screen, pointing at an object. '_How about.. we do a little bit of home improvement?_'

"He's a cripple." He stated when he noticed what she was pointing at. She only rose a brow, '_So? Didn't he once say, he hated people whom viewed him as a cripple. Its the same as pity. Don't go easy on him just because he's in pain... Did he go easy on Cuddy when she tried to get her first child?_' Lucas sulked back a little, his lips pressed but she only scooted closer, her hands touching his face, forcing his eyes back to her.

'_Did he go easy on her when she finally got Rachel? What were his words?_' His eyes pleaded at her to not speak them, but she laughed out in a gasp before stating,

'**Go suckle on your bastard child so you can feel better....'**

Lucas pulled away then, he crawled towards the doors and slammed them open. He needed air, he needed to get out.

'_Look at them Lucas! House and Wilson, happily enjoying the loft that was meant for you and Cuddy!_'

"Shut up!" He covered his ears, he didn't want to hear.

'_They are laughing at you Lucas! They are smiling and laughing at Cuddys pain! They dont care! As long as they have each other, everyone else can go to hell!_'

He turned then, his eyes narrowed. "What can I do huh?! Cuddy told me not to confront them!"

She sat on the edge of the van, her legs kicking the street lightly. She watched him, her grin never fading. "...What do I have to do?" He asked again. She only rolled her shoulders in a slow shrug, before glancing over her shoulder, looking back to the screen.

'_As long as they have **each other**... They are happy._'

".... Break them...."

She smirked at him then when he spoke. "... Put them against each other." She nodded, egging him on with her hands. He paced a little, his hands shaking with the need for answers. ".. Pranks?" She squealed out in delight, her hands clapping.

'_What a better way to make them pay then to play pranks on them!_'

He nodded then taking a step closer. "Make them suspect each other."

She beckon him closer with her finger, whispering out, '_Make them scared of each other._'

"Make them... hate each other."

He stood before her then, his eyes never leaving her own. She reached up, her arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, holding him tight. "All is fair in love and war." Lucas whispered, feeling her fingers trace up along his spine.

'_How many clicks does it take to make Cuddy cry?_'

"....Two..."

'_Well then._' She whispered, her nails sinking into his jackets back, raking down slowly.

'_Do you happen to have a flat head screw driver?'_

********************


	4. Dance with me Slowly

He didn't know why he stopped here. His mind just told him too, something was telling him. Something was calling to him. An old abanded building laid before him for lease, tinted windows showing what once use to be a ballet studio. Dust gathered along the wooden floors while lights hung uselessly over head. The steady 'tap-thump-thump' of his steps echoed in the room, his body coming to a full stop in the middle.

It was to big and so empty. Why did he break in? Why did his body suddenly want to be here? There was nothing left of this studio. All the little feet of children whom struggle to do a split, laughter of friends and girls as they danced to music of their souls. The owner moved to a better spot, bigger, in hopes of more dancers to come waltzing threw its doors. All that was left behind was this tiny little studio, awaiting for another soul to grace its dusty floor.  
Gripping his cane, he sighed. This was stupid. House began to turn around, mocking himself for letting his body take him to such a gay place. What? Was he going to prance around and kick splits in the air? He's a cripple damn it! Tapping the rubber tip of his cane on the floor, he faced the mirrors fully, and before him his eye brow rose.

The mirror reflected, but a different image was showing. There, the studio was alive, the lights beaming with warm glow, the wooden floors waxed and gleaming. It looked so clean, to bright and in the middle of the dance floor, where his reflection would be. A women stood, her body positioned awkwardly. Her arms were placed before her, hands bend slightly in towards her sternum. Her knees were together but her feet were speared apart in a V. The first position for ballet. Her clothing hugged her body loosely, a baggy button up shirt, the sleeve rolled up her arms to her elbows while the buttons were undone, showing her dark navy blue tank that rose and fell with her deep breaths. His eyes trailed down, moving along her denim covered legs to her feet where a pair of ballet slippers laid. They looked worn, aged. A tilt of his head aimed him towards another object that laid just outside of her vision.

A black cane laid untouched, hanging in wait upon the balance bar that was bolted into the mirror.

He took a step and her body moved into the next position. Her arms spread out away from her, her body sliding to stand with her legs apart. She flinched when her weight was placed down and that made House frown. Her eyes were closed, her lips pressed.  
A slow rising typo of music began to play in his ears. Piano, it took a few notes but House knew that song. Eluvium, Radio Ballet.

He watched her move, every step she took, she used her left leg. Her unhurt leg. The music grew louder and she only moved more, kicking her right leg up to touch her out stretched arm with such grace, it was like she was moving in water. Her body swirled and spun, as thou she was on air. Lifting her arms up towards the ceiling, she spun herself, rising to the tip of her left toes while her right bent out, her right foot barely grazing her left thigh. To him, she looked beautiful. To him, he never saw a breath taking display of ballet.

But to others, this was pitiful.

Every landing she did, her face twisted with pain and her body jerked for a quick second as she quickly reset her weight off her hurt leg. Every graceful arch, her lips parted in a silent cry when her hurt leg accidentally pulled its missing muscle, making her straight posture bend backwards. She was not a ballerina, she wasn't even close. A professional can look upon her now and twisted their lips in disgrace at her attempts. Dubbing her untalented and a waste.

But he could see her. She use to be a great dancer. She use to fly threw the air like all the others, landing gracefully upon the floor without so much as a bead of sweat upon her brow.

But now… Now she was back where she started, she could never dance again. She could never grace the stage under the blessing light. Never will she hear the clapping hands of admirers and cries of 'encore!' No… forever she will limp and remember, her dream was lost.

Just like his.

Another step he took and her body came crashing to the floor. In her leap, she landed on her right leg and a cry so painful, so piecing cracked the very mirror before him, splitting the image in half. She laid on the ground, her arms wrapped tightly around her right thigh, hugging it to her chest, her hands struggling, pushing, trying to stop the spasms, the pain.  
He touched the mirror gently, tracing the crack. He called out to her gently. Her body trembled, shaking from the waves of over loading her nerves and body. Her head tilted up and when her raged tear filled eyes found his own, the mirror cracked again and before him, the glass rained down, breaking, leaving him to stare at the cemented wall behind it.

Lowering his arm back to his side. He took a deep breath before stepping back, making his way back out of the building.

He wasn't a ballet dancer…. Thou he _did_ cut a mean rug in samba.


End file.
